


A Single Dark Hair

by Cohava



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bonds (Telepathic or Empathic), Cunnilingus, Enemies in love, F/M, Force Cunnilingus, Hair-pulling, Kinktober 2018, Post TLJ, author is very late on her prompts, if they can touch fingers they can touch other things, no regrets folks, the angst got away from me, this IS how the force works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 01:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16316621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cohava/pseuds/Cohava
Summary: Kinktober Day #10 (I did say I was late)Prompts: Hair-pulling and Bonds (Telepathic or Empathic)Rey closed the door but the Force Bond still works. Neither of them is willing to come to the other's side, so what's left to do but have angsty Force Sex and discover new kinks in the meantime?





	A Single Dark Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy ;-)

When she touches herself, she knows he feels it too. 

She has given up trying to hide it—they both have. She thinks they both have come to cherish these moments, this twisted parody of what they had before. There used to be hope that the two of them could be together, that they could belong to one another. Now they know it’s no use trying to talk, to persuade, to understand, even. All they have is this: loving each other in the privacy of their minds, in the blind spots of a war.

The bond has become stronger and stronger, regardless of their intentions. When she touches herself in the secrecy of her bunk, she finds him in her bed, over her body, as solid and warm as if he was here while his physical body is light years away. The distance doesn’t matter so much when she feels lonely and hungry for his touch. He undresses himself too, quickly, his garments disappearing off the side of the bed as the bond fails to materialize them once they are no longer on him. 

When they kiss, she feels the echo of his emotions reverberate through her. Love and resentment, hope and despair. Desire. 

He is as stubborn as she is, but in a different way. She’s unmoving like a rock, like a mountain, silently waiting for him to come back to her; he rages and lashes like the sea, hoping to erode her defenses, to have her crumble into him. 

She won’t join him in the darkness, but he won’t stop trying to make her.

Even now, as he kisses his way down her body, heading towards that aching spot between her legs, he talks. 

Talking is forbidden between them not, a mutual acknowledgment that it didn’t serve them well before. But he is not good at being told ‘no’.

“We could do this every hour of every day,” is his comment. Casual, dry, as if she couldn’t feel his longing in her bones.

“In a real bed. Comfortable.”

“This is a real bed.”

He scoffs.

“How would you know it isn’t? You can’t see it.”

She should ignore him, not let him bait her into an arguing. But he is very good at getting a rise out of her.

“I can feel you body.” 

His voice is a low, suggestive rumble as he speaks against her lower belly, tantalizing close to where she wants him. One of his big hands slides around her hip, then the other, and he moves them in tandem where her back meets her backside, gently kneading.

“I know your back never quite stops hurting. I’d wager you don’t have masseuse droids in the Resistance, or even proper mattresses.” His voice softens, losing the hint of mocking. “Have you ever wondered how a good night of uninterrupted sleep would feel? I know I have. I know we could do that, you and me, together on a really good bed, with no fear and no hunger and…”

It’s so tempting. She isn’t particularly swayed by his promises of luxury—after a lifetime of want, she finds the Resistance headquarters perfectly adequate to her needs, something her spoiled lover cannot quite comprehend. But the promise of them, together, is a hard one to refuse.

As he talks, she lets her finger tangle through his lovely thick hair and she pulls. Harshly.

“Stop talking!” She hisses. “We don’t talk. We just… do this. And you are a fool if you think—”

She stops talking, too. A sudden wave of pleasure overpowers her, so intense she can’t breathe for a moment. She locks eyes with him. 

“Kylo Ren,” she whispers, still breathless. “I have found a weakness.”

“Yes.” Liquid heat has taken place in his eyes, instead of pleading. This is better. This urgent need is better than pointless dreams they can never fulfill. 

“What are you going to do about it?” He asks, searching her face. She feels his own breath catch, and she feels the passion she has awakened—his need. His hunger. 

She answers by pulling his hair again, roughly directing his head where she needs it, pressing his mouth inelegantly to her wet quim. He licks her eagerly, moaning at the feel of her nails raking his scalp and ears to the point of pain. he doesn’t want her pulling gently, she know, he wants her to yank and twist and nearly tear his hair away—and she does. 

Panting heavily as his mouth works his magic, she holds onto his hair like a lifeline. It’s almost as if she was trying to pull him off her body, and he seems to need her resistance has much as her punishing grip. In return, he is as thorough and dedicated to her pleasure as any lover could wish and when he takes her clitoris between his lips she needs to bite her own in order not to let out his other, dead, forbidden name. 

Ben, she thinks futilely, knowing that he hears it in his mind anyway, as loudly as a scream. 

One of his hands has disappeared from beneath her body to pleasure himself, and she knows his rhythm becomes faster, more erratic, as the small word hangs heavily in the air around them. 

Eyes squeezed shut, she thrusts against his mouth, yanks viciously at his hair and lets herself dream of a world like he described, a world where they can sleep together in each other’s arms and there’s no pain, and there’s no hunger. 

When they orgasms simultaneously their pleasure bridges the entire galaxy.

Then she opens her eyes and she is alone. Breathing heavily, looking at the grey ceiling, wishing once again for things she cannot have.

Through the force, she still feels the faint outline of his body over hers; she still feels the rhythm of his heart beating as hers does.

She hears him softly whisper her name. 

She opens her fist and a single, long dark hair curls mockingly around her fingers.

She can’t sleep.


End file.
